


Can't bury ghosts

by Void_Home



Category: Code Lyoko
Genre: Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 06:11:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11396940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Void_Home/pseuds/Void_Home
Summary: once you let thed   a   r   k   n   e   s   s     insideit never comes out.





	Can't bury ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> I have??? no memory of writing this but it was in my drive so?  
> Enjoy?  
> I don't think it's that good but It's decent enough to be seen  
> ~

                                          once you let the

                              d   a   r   k   n   e   s   s     inside

                                                                    it never comes _out_.

 

 

A sob. Shoulders shake, eyes shut tighter and he just lets out another sob, tears streaking down his cheeks. Fingers consider the blade on the counter and the blood dripping from his wrists, tainting the water red.

_[Like the color I painted you with, ages ago.]_

“Sss-Ss…. S-Shut up.” The words take so long to form in reply to that inky voice he hated so much. The constant reminder of his mistake. The thing that sometimes drove him to this, huddled on a chair in front of the sink, wrists laced with slices and old scars and blood pooling in with the water. Anything to shut out the voice, the memories. Him. Anything to get him to shut up. He just wanted him to shut up and let him live his life. He was supposed to be gone, but still he was in his head, treating him terribly and making him want to just… cease existing. William trembled and grabbed the rags.

That night, his dreams were of that monster and his own screams.

 

Sometimes, he could forget what had been done to him. Sitting in classes he was still good at. Classes that he wasn’t behind in. Sit in his chair and understand what was being said. Those times were nice but few. Usually ended by someone remarking, “Sure thought Will would’ve laughed at that!” Apparently his clone had been… Not all there. But very good at Math. Whatever.

He just ignores those comments and twirls his pencil between his fingers, flicking his eyes toward the window and staring out it.

_[Jump out of it. You’re on the third floor.]_

_‘Shut up Timmy.’_

_[Your loss. It’d end your so called misery.]_

_‘And my life.’_

Sometimes, it was easy to ignore him. XANA could pipe in at times and Will could honestly care less.  But sometimes, XANA was all he could hear.

 

Blood on his hands, blood on his chest. Blood from that injury to his chest but he couldn’t feel it. He was oddly numb as he floated there, tentacles latched onto his back. It was hell. The Scyphozoa was here, on Earth… And he had been caught. Not without a fight, mind you, but ultimately caught. How pathetic he was.

He was submerged.

 

_but you lost yourself_

_to the memories that haunted_

_the hollows of your bones._

_and we learned the hard way_

_that you can’t bury ghosts_

 


End file.
